Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

As Crookface spoke, faltering as he did so, a remarkable change came over Laszlo’s face. First his mouth opened and his chin dropped and then his eyes opened wide in wonder before filling with tears. All the rigidity of his body, so recently tense with anger, melted away until he was like a puppet whose strings are broken. He fell into a chair and started to weep, with deep racking sobs.

Old Kendy remained standing where he was.

‘Well! Well! Come on, now! Mustn’t do that, you know!’ he said in a deep, rumbling voice and then, most unexpectedly and with clumsy awkwardness, he started to stroke the young man’s hair just as if he had been his own son. ‘Don’t … don’t do that!’ he repeated, his gruff voice deeper than ever.

Laszlo cried for a long time as he crouched ever deeper in the large armchair. At last something had been set free inside him, something hitherto imprisoned had been liberated. Soon he was crying quietly, crying for himself and his wasted life, for the hurt he carried within himself for so many years, and for the talent that he had abandoned so frivolously, for his dissipated life and for the chances he had missed. Now all was clear to him. It was a long time before he looked up at the old man who had waited so patiently, wiped his eyes and his face and said, ‘Forgive me, sir! I am deeply ashamed. I don’t usually … Please, forgive me!’

The old man looked down, and then, his old self again, merely grunted some brief four-letter obscenity and said, ‘Nothing to be ashamed about! It happens, you know. Does you good, like enough!’

‘But what can I do?’ asked Gyeroffy humbly.

Crookface pulled up a chair and sat down. Briefly he drew up a plan. Laszlo should go home at once and make a list of all his debts — and if necessary get someone to help him. Also he should list all his possessions, forestlands, houses and farms, even if he had disposed of them in some way. When this was done he should bring them to him and together they would discuss what should be done. Matters could not be completely hopeless and anyhow one had to make a start somewhere.

Laszlo agreed to do what Crookface had suggested and the two men shook hands. As they did so Kendy just added, ‘And try not to drink so damn much!’

It was many years since Laszlo had felt so at peace with himself and so light-hearted. When he left Crookface’s house he saw a café-bar across the street. For a moment he hesitated. Then he went in and the need that habit had instilled in him triumphed over his will. In a few moments he had downed three large measures of brandy.

That evening he left for the country.

The day of the bazaar led also to an important event which astonished everybody: young Margit’s betrothal to Adam Alvinczy. How very unexpected, they all said, for everyone had known for ages that Adam was desperately in love with Adrienne. And now he’s marrying her sister!

In fact no one was more surprised than Adam himself, who hardly knew what had happened nor how it was that he found himself betrothed, and betrothed to Margit of all people. And the strangest thing of all was that it didn’t feel strange at all: on the contrary it all seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Since the bazaar, when as usual he went to the Uzdy villa at tea-time with the rest of their little band of friends, he no longer tried to sit near to Adrienne or even find a place where he could gaze longingly at her, but started to seek out Margit who — quite by chance of course — always seemed to be found alone in the corner of the drawing-room farthest away from the others. He would join her at once, justifying this move by saying to himself that there was no point in approaching Adrienne who disdained his great love. The other guests, Kadacsay, Pityu Kendy, the other three Alvinczy brothers and the Laczok girls, soon began to take it for granted that Adam and Margit would only whisper things to each other so, as soon as the two of them sat down some way apart, they would be left strictly alone. As a result they could discuss their favourite subject to their hearts’ content.

And that subject, now, was the amazing difference between Adrienne’s heartlessness and Margit’s understanding.

They milled over this fact and examined it in every detail every time they met. And so it came to pass that one afternoon they were to be found together in their favourite place in the corner. Baron Gazsi, far away in the centre of all the others, was telling some extremely droll tale of an adventure he had had with a horse and a wild boar sow — in which he had, as always, come off the worst — for Gazsi, unlike most people who tell stories about themselves, told only those stories in which he could represent himself as an unwitting clown. This manner was well suited to his woodpecker nose and plaintive eyes, while his way of rolling his ‘r’s so heavily made his sad self-deprecating stories all the more hilarious. Where Gazsi was, near the fireplace, everyone was in a constant roar of laughter.

‘How merry they all are over there!’ said Adam sadly to little Margit. ‘What fun they are all having! But you’re so good to me, sitting always with me and listening when you could be happy and laughing with the others. Dear Margit, aren’t you bored by all my complaints?’

‘Oh, no! I’d rather be here,’ she answered. ‘I’m like a nurse, you know. I like being of use. It’s a great joy to me if I can help to ease pain, especially yours — though I know it’s hopeless. I could listen to you for ever.’

‘I’ve never known anyone as good as you are, Margit! Do you know, I’m almost happy when I’m with you! If only you could stay with me always. You’re such a comfort, a real kindred spirit!’

Adam spoke very softly, which was only natural as they were sitting so close together on the sofa where, as it happened, there was plenty of space so to sit quite so close was not really necessary. Nevertheless they did sit so closely as to be almost touching and this, no doubt, was because in this way they could talk quietly without being disturbed by the loud chatter of the others. Their heartfelt words seemed all the more intimate when they were whispered into each other’s ears, and it was also easier to explain their inner feelings in this way and Margit, for once, could never have uttered her next words if they had had to be said out loud.

‘Of course! That would be the best! You marry me and I’ll always be with you. I’ll be your best friend and I’ll take care of you and we’ll talk about Adrienne all the time, just as we do now.’

‘My darling!’ he whispered, enchanted. ‘You would accept that? Knowing that my heart …?’

‘This one?’ she said quickly, touching his chest with her little hand and leaving it there for a moment. ‘This one’s broken, I know. And you’re not in love with me, I know that too … and never could be.’

‘That’s true, of course,’ said the young man sadly, still believing this to be the truth, ‘though I’m sure that if I had never met Adrienne I could have fallen in love with you!’

So they went on talking of what could never be and appearing to share their sad yet honey-sweet thoughts until they noticed that everyone was preparing to leave. When all the others had said goodbye and had already left the room, Margit put her hand on Adam’s sleeve. ‘Wait a moment!’ she said, and her words were no less than a command. ‘We’ll tell Addy now!’

This was an awkward moment for Adam, for how, after singing so many hymns of love to Adrienne, could he possibly tell her that he intended to marry her sister? However he need not have worried; young Margit handled it all with the greatest tact. She took his big hand in her small one, led him over to Adrienne, and said, ‘See, Addy, poor Adam is so unhappy that we have decided he will marry me! Don’t you see, this will be the best!’